


candle lights

by wearing_tearing



Series: slices [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anniversary, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Post-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:26:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5764696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Might not be like we planned, but I thought a candle light dinner wouldn’t be so bad.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	candle lights

“Fuck, just—”

“Stay where you—”

“I can go get—”

“No, Buck, you’re—”

“It’s fine, I’m just gonna—”

“ _Bucky_!”

“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit, _fuck_!”

Bucky yelps when sharp pain rushes through his arm, making him take a step back and away from the hot pots on the stove. He rubs at his skin, blind in the complete darkness of the kitchen. They were putting the finishing touches on dinner when the power blinked and went out, leaving them to stumble through the room to pick up their phones from the kitchen table.

“Let me see,” Steve says from behind him, his breath ghosting over Bucky’s ear.

Bucky shivers, hand still rubbing at his now probably red skin. “It’s dark as fuck in here, Steve, you can’t see shit.”

There is no need for light for Bucky to know Steve is rolling his eyes at him. They’ve been together since high school and married for almost five months, and by now they’re both well-versed in each other’s… _everything_ , really.

It takes a second, but soon enough Steve is shining a light from his phone on Bucky’s arm. Bucky blinks, eyes taking a little while to adjust to the sudden brightness. Steve’s fingers are gentle on his arm, turning it a little so he can see better.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve murmurs, lips turning down as he stares at Bucky’s skin, now red and irritated.

“Hurts,” Bucky hisses when Steve traces his thumb over it, pulling his arm closer to himself.

“Sorry.” Steve sets his phone on the table, casting an eerie glow through the kitchen. “C’mon, we gotta run cold water over it.”

Bucky lets himself be led to the sink, only grumbling a little. It helps when Steve molds himself to his back, his chin hooked over Bucky’s shoulder, touch soft and careful as he turns on the water and helps Bucky maneuver his arm under the faucet.

“There goes our anniversary dinner,” Bucky sighs, leaning back against Steve.

Steve brushes a kiss against the side of his neck, turning off the water and grabbing a dishtowel to dry Bucky’s arm. “We’ve already had nine years of those,” he says. “Missing the tenth won’t make much of a difference.”

Bucky’s stomach flips at Steve’s casual mention of how many anniversaries they’ve had together. Even though it’s been ten years and counting, Bucky still sometimes can’t quite believe how _lucky_ he is to have Steve in his life, now as his husband, for the rest of forever.

“It’s the first one since we got married,” Bucky argues, turning around so they’re face to face. “‘S supposed to be special.”

Bucky knows he’s said that about every anniversary they’ve celebrated together since they started dating when they were seventeen, but Steve kindly doesn’t mention it. He’s as much of a sap as Bucky is, in the end.

“No reason why it can’t be,” Steve tells him, hands resting on Bucky’s hips. “But we gotta put some cream on that burn first, and then I gotta call the landlord.”

“Yes, Ma.” Bucky rolls his eyes, letting Steve grab his hand and tug him to the bathroom, using the flashlight on Steve’s phone to guide them. “And someone probably called him already.”

“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns him. “Poor Winifred, to have to put up with a jerk like you. And it doesn’t matter if they did.”

“Punk,” Bucky throws back, like they’re teenagers and still dancing around each other. “And you love me.”

Steve smiles at him, fond and bright. “Guess so, since I married you and all.”

Bucky smiles back, sitting on the edge of the tub while Steve takes out their first aid kit. Bucky holds the phone for him, sitting patiently while Steve applies some aloe cream to his arm.

“There you go,” Steve says, kissing the inside of Bucky’s elbow. “You’re all better.”

“I don’t know, Steve.” Bucky shakes his head, lips turning down. “I’m still hurtin’ a little.”

“Where?” Steve frowns at him, cupping Bucky’s cheek with one hand.

“Right here,” Bucky says, tapping his bottom lip lightly with a finger.

Steve blinks at him and then snorts. “But of course you are.”

“Gotta kiss me better, Stevie. Them’s the rules.”

Steve sighs, shoulders dropping. “If I gotta. I mean, it’s such a huge task and all.”

“Right.”

“And you’re so ugly, too,” Steve adds, laughing when Bucky protests and hits him on the shoulder. “C’mere.”

Bucky’s pouting a little, but he doesn’t pull away when Steve gets a hand on the back of his neck, fingers tangling into Bucky’s hair. Instead, he leans in, welcoming the touch of Steve’s lips against his own, sweet and slow and _so so good_.

“How’s that?” Steve asks him, nuzzling his nose against Bucky’s.

Bucky licks his lips, tongue grazing Steve’s bottom lip in the process. “That was good,” Bucky says, voice rough. “Can still feel a little sting, though.”

Steve hums, eyes glinting when he moves in again. This time the kiss is deeper, but still just as slow, as if Steve’s taking his time learning everything there is to know about kissing Bucky. Bucky smiles into Steve’s mouth, reminded of a different time years ago,  lying on Steve’s bed on a hot summer day, Steve’s bony knees sticking into his thighs, both of them young and stupid and in love.

“Is that better?”

Bucky lets out a slow breath, eyes fluttering open. “Yeah,” he murmurs, stealing another quick kiss. “That’s better.”

“Good, ‘cause I need to call the landlord.”

Bucky groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Way to ruin the moment, Steve.”

Steve just blows his a kiss, picking up his phone and making the call.

Bucky sighs, leaving him to it and carefully making his way back to the kitchen in the dark. He knows their place by heart, could probably walk around it even in his sleep, but Steve’s been rearranging one of their bookshelves and has been known to leave a book or three lying around.

His phone is on the kitchen table where he left it, and Bucky picks it up and turns on the flashlight, the bright white light illuminating the kitchen. It’s enough for him to be able to see the pans still on the stove, so he goes about grabbing a few bowls and finishing up dinner. They might not be able to celebrate anymore, but nothing says they can’t eat.

Steve comes back after a few minutes, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder once before sliding his hand slowly down his back, palm coming to rest flat just above Bucky’s waistband. Bucky shamelessly leans into the touch, lips twitching when Steve digs his fingers in, just a little.

“I’ll set the table, okay?”

“Don’t have to go to the trouble, Stevie. We can just eat here until the power comes back.”

“Landlord said it might take a little while,” Steve tells him, kissing him on the cheek before moving away.

“Great,” Bucky huffs, throwing the dirty pans in the sink and filling them with water. He’ll take care of the dishes tomorrow while Steve sleeps in. “Guess we’ll celebrate our anniversary tomorrow, too.”

Bucky has to admit he’s a little bummed about that. In the decade they’ve been together they’ve been lucky enough not to miss the date, even during that fateful year in their last year of high school when Steve caught pneumonia and had to be rushed to the hospital. Bucky remembers convincing Mrs. Rogers to help him misappropriate a few jello cups, enough so he could arrange them in the form of a heart on Steve’s hospital tray and wish him a happy one year anniversary.

A breakfast in bed tomorrow morning might not be ideal but it’s still pretty good, especially if Bucky shapes all the pancakes into hearts. He can even write ‘ _I love you_ ’ in chocolate syrup on top of one of them, and maybe fold one of the napkins into a rose like Natasha taught him to.

 _Sounds like a plan_ , Bucky thinks to himself, mentally patting himself on the back. It’s not the dinner they had planned, but it’s still good enough. Especially if he combines breakfast with lazy morning sex, Steve sprawled under him as he takes his time kissing every inch of his husband’s body.

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters to himself, pleased. “You got it, Barnes.”

Bucky tucks his phone into his front pocket, the flashlight brightening his way. He grabs the bowls and dishes with food and makes his way to the living room, mind still focused on all sorts of sexy ways he can make it up to Steve tomorrow morning.

His distraction is so great that he doesn’t really notice the yellow glow cast over the living room, at least not until he hears Steve calling his name.

“Hi, Bucky.”

Bucky stops, blinks, feels his jaw go slack and his mouth open in shock as he stares at the scene in front of him. Steve set the table, alright, just like he said he would. But not only did he pick the fancy china —  the one Bucky’s grandma passed down to him when she heard Bucky _finally_ asked Steve to marry him —, but he also lit up actual _real candles_. Candles Bucky didn’t even know they owned.

“What…,” Bucky trails off, carefully setting down the food between their plates, mindful of the candles, before turning off his phone.

Steve shrugs one shoulder, hands in his pockets. “Thought we could still celebrate,” he explains, smiling a little. “Might not be like we planned, but I thought a candle light dinner wouldn’t be so bad.”

Bucky swallows down a rush of emotion as he stares at Steve, bright blue eyes reflecting the fire from the candle flames. “No,” he whispers. “It wouldn’t be so bad.”

Steve grins at him, big and wide and wonderful, pulling one of the chairs back and gesturing at the seat. “Mister Barnes-Rogers.”

Bucky lets out a small laugh, sitting down and letting Steve get the chair for him. “Thank you, Mister Rogers-Barnes.”

Steve winks at him, taking his own seat. His feet find Bucky’s under the table, trapping Bucky’s ankles between his own. “Would you like some salad, dear?” he asks in his most gracious tone, making Bucky laugh again.

“Yes, please.”

They don’t talk much as they eat, never have. Catching each other up on their days is reserved for right after they get home, both of them falling on the couch and snuggling up against each other, voices low and soft as they talk. Dinner is for eating and playing footsie under the table, even after all these years, Steve’s eyes glinting deviously as he slowly slides his socked foot up Bucky’s pant leg. Bucky just raises an eyebrow at him and takes another bite of food, his own lips twitching up in amusement, stomach flipping when Steve taps his toes against Bucky’s shin and drops his feet again.

“Quitting so soon?” Bucky can’t help but ask, rubbing his own toes against Steve’s ankle.

“I’m playing a bigger game,” is all Steve says in reply, grinning when he notices the tips of Bucky’s ears turning red.

“I see,” Bucky murmurs. “Win for all?”

“Isn’t it always?”

Bucky licks his lips, because _yes, always_. As fond as they are of teasing each other, they aren’t mean about it, not at all. They might drive each other up the wall sometimes, but they always follow through. And that usually involves nakedness and _a lot_ of orgasms. For both of them.

“Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” Steve reaches out and takes one of Bucky’s hands in his, lifting it up until he can press a sweet kiss to Bucky’s knuckles.

Sex with Steve is always fucking incredible, but there’s something extra special about anniversary-sex. They’re always sweeter to each other, more intense, taking their time showing how much they love each other with kisses and touches and whispered words. It’s one of the moments when they realize everything they’ve been through together only served to bring them closer, to make them fall more deeply in love, to chose each other again and again and again, every single day.

So to say Bucky’s excited for whatever Steve has planned is an understatement.

They finish up dinner with Steve stealing a tomato from Bucky’s plate before he can eat it, opening up his mouth to show the chewed up fruit when Bucky gives him an unimpressed look.

“Woah, sweetheart, that’s so sexy,” Bucky deadpans. “I am burning with passion for you right now.”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you fart in the shower.”

Bucky doesn’t even bother with embarrassment over that one, and by the way Steve rolls his eyes at him he knows.

They blow out the candles when they’re done, turning on the flashlights on their phones and taking the dirty dishes to the kitchen to join the pans in the sink, both of them opening the fridge and taking out dessert as efficient and quickly as possible so the cold air doesn’t rush out. They’ll start worrying about food going bad if the power doesn’t come back soon, but for now they can enjoy the red velvet cake with icing without a second thought.

A second thought outside of how fucking _good_ the cake tastes, that is.

“I love your baking,” Bucky moans around a forkful of cake, getting icing on the corner of his lips.

Steve wipes at it with his thumb, bringing it up to his mouth and licking it clean. “I know,” he says, leaning back on the couch, their phones on the coffee table. “That’s why I don’t do it often.”

“I don’t know who told you eating cake for breakfast everyday is bad for your health, because it’s a _lie_ ,” Bucky argues. “There is nothing bad about something that tastes this good.” He makes his point by stuffing his mouth full of cake, cheeks puffing out as he chews.

“Yeah?”

Bucky frowns and makes a distressed sound when Steve takes his plate from him, setting it on the table with his own. He goes still when Steve leans in close, though, recognizing the look in Steve’s eyes. He swallows his cake with a loud gulp, tongue darting out to wet his lips, Steve’s gaze following the movement.

Their kiss is sweet and chaste when Steve brushes his mouth against Bucky’s, a barely there press of lips, just getting them started. Bucky lets himself be kissed, following Steve’s lead and the slow pace, his hands finding their way to rest on Steve’s shoulders.

“And that?” Steve asks, pulling back just enough so he can mouth at Bucky’s jaw, teeth nipping at the soft skin there. “Does that taste good?”

Bucky lets out a low moan, tilting his head to the side. “Don’t know,” he says, because Steve isn’t the only little shit in this relationship. “Might have to try it again.”

He feels the smile Steve presses against his neck, and doesn’t fight it when Steve pushes him slowly down on the couch, even going as far as grab one of the throw pillows and put it under his head. That’s Steve, always taking care of him.

“Hey,” Bucky murmurs, hands moving from Steve’s shoulders to cup his cheeks, thumb tracing Steve’s bottom lip.

“Hi,” Steve answers, voice low, settling his weight on top of Bucky, their legs tangled together.

The couch is big enough for them to share it like this, thank fuck. It was something Bucky insisted on when they first moved in together, adamant he needed somewhere nice and comfortable to cuddle Steve while they watched baseball. It wasn’t until one of their make out sessions escalated to full-blown sex on their couch that Steve was convinced the purchase was worth it. Now that couch is one of their favorite spots, aside from their bed, to fuck, much to the horror of all of their friends and family.

And Bucky knows that is what tonight is going to lead to, as Steve dips his head and kisses him again, licking his way into Bucky’s mouth, hot and deep and heady. Bucky whimpers, a small broken sound as he sucks on Steve’s tongue, legs falling open out of their own accord when he arches his back, trying to get closer.

“Want something?” Steve asks, eyes dark when he looks down at Bucky, his lips red and shiny and ready to be kissed again.

So Bucky does, nipping at Steve’s bottom lip before he pulls back. “Taste sweet,” he comments, stealing another kiss. “My sweetheart.”

“Sap,” Steve mouths against his cheek. “Love you.”

“You’re the sap,” Bucky argues. “And I love you too.”

He punctuates the statement by trailing his lips down Steve’s throat, mouth finding his favorite spot and sucking a mark just where Steve’s neck meets his shoulder. Steve will be able to cover it with his shirt, but he’ll still feel the shape of Bucky’s mouth there, the sting of his teeth, and he’ll remember exactly what they were doing.

They break apart so they can get undressed, hands touching every inch of skin that is revealed as they rid themselves of their clothes. And Bucky’s breath gets stuck in his throat as it always does when he sees Steve like this, naked and hovering over him, power and strength evident in the way he holds himself.

It’s a sharp contrast to the skinny little guy Bucky fell in love all those years ago, and it gives Bucky pause. Not because he loves Steve more like this, or because he misses the way he looked back then. He pauses because he’s so fucking _grateful_ Steve is healthy now, that there is no danger of Bucky losing him.

Maybe he clings a little tighter to Steve as he thinks of all the close calls they had before, but Steve doesn’t say anything about it. He just lets Bucky hold him, hands rubbing up and down Bucky’s side, down his hips, his face tucked to the side of Bucky’s neck, just breathing him in.

“I’m really fuckin’ happy you married me,” Bucky tells him, voice shaking.

Steve lifts his head up, bangs falling on his forehead and almost brushing his eyes. Bucky swipes his hair back, fingers tracing the lines of Steve’s face: his brows, the bridge of his nose, his jaw.

“‘S always been you, Buck,” Steve murmurs, leaning into Bucky’s touch. “Ever since I punched that jerk in the face to get you that pudding cup. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my life.”

Bucky doesn’t fight the tears forming in his eyes, nor does the fight the urge to surge up and kiss the daylights out of Steve. There’s no finesse to it, just desperation and happiness and love, the kiss sloppy and perfect.

In between kisses and _I love yous_ Steve opens him up, taking his time, always so careful  to give Bucky what he needs and not hurt him, even when Bucky starts rocking back into his fingers. It makes Bucky laugh, sometimes, how patient Steve can be when he puts his mind to it, when he wants to make Bucky come apart under his hands.

They don’t bother with condoms, haven’t for years, unless they want to avoid a mess. This isn’t one of those times, as Steve guides himself with one hand and slowly pushes inside of Bucky, Bucky’s eyes rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of _finally_ having Steve inside of him.

“Fuck, I love your dick,” Bucky groans, nails digging into Steve’s back, pulling him closer. “‘M so glad I put a ring on it.”

“I can go get the cockring if you want.” Steve laughs, the sound quickly turning into a hiss when Bucky clenches around him, his legs wrapping themselves around Steve’s waist. “ _Fuck_.”

“‘S what I’m trying to do,” Bucky gasps. “And don’t you fuckin’ dare move. We can do that later.”

“Promise?” Steve asks, and when Bucky looks up at him is to find him smiling that sweet little innocent smile of his that does _things_ to Bucky.

“Anything you want, Stevie,” Bucky promises, brushing a kiss to Steve’s mouth. “Now make love to me.”

“Anything you want, Buck,” is all Steve says, closing the distance between them and kissing him at the same time he starts to move.

The thing about being together for so long is that they know each other. Steve knows exactly what to do, exactly what button to push, to turn Bucky into a complete mess in bed. That is not to say sex is boring with them, because it never is. Steve knowing what to do to make Bucky fall apart just means he knows how to drag things out, how to make it worth it, how to bring Bucky to the edge over and over again.

Bucky loses himself in the feeling of Steve over him, _inside_ of him, wrapped around him. All he can see and feel and _taste_ is Steve, everywhere, as they move together. This is all he’s ever wanted, this man right here in his arms: to love him and take care of him and sex him up sometimes.

Bucky blinks his eyes open when he hears Steve snort, his own lips forming a dumb besotted smile when he finds Steve grinning down at him. “What?” he asks, voice breaking when Steve pulls out only to slide slowly back in again, sending sparks down Bucky’s spine.

“You were babbling again,” Steve mutters, nuzzling a spot behind Bucky’s ear, lips finding Bucky’s pulse, undoubtedly having his revenge and leaving Bucky with a hickey high enough that can’t be covered. “About dreams coming true and loving me and how you want to sex me up.”

Bucky’s mouth sometimes runs ahead of him when they’re having sex, spewing all kinds of shit he doesn’t mean to say. He says he can’t be blamed if Steve fucks him so well and so thoroughly his brains get scrambled, which works well as an excuse _and_ an excuse to see Steve feel smug about himself.

“I do love you,” Bucky moans, circling his hips and cursing when the change in angle does _wonders_ to him. “And I love this, love _us_. So fuckin’ much. You’ve got no— Oh, _fuck_.”

Bucky cuts off both because Steve’s hand is now on his dick _and_ because the power blinked and came back on, momentarily blinding them. Steve doesn’t break his rhythm, though, hand stroking Bucky slowly in time with his thrusts, his mouth finding Bucky’s and slotting them together in a kiss.

Bucky answers with all that he’s got, so close to coming now that Steve is touching him, his palm warm and slick with Bucky’s precome and feeling so. Fuckin’. _Good_. He tightens his legs around Steve’s waist, one of his hands sliding all the way down to Steve’s ass, squeezing it and urging him on.

“Stevie,” Bucky gasps, the little sounds of pleasure he makes being swallowed by Steve’s mouth covering his once again.

“C’mon, I’ve got you,” Steve whispers, lips grazing over Bucky’s. “You can let go, sweetheart.”

And that, well. That does it.

Because Bucky cannot fucking _take it_ when Steve calls him sweetheart, his entire body flushing with warmth and his stomach flipping. It so rarely happens, and when it does it is during moments like this, when they’re together and as close as two people can be. And Bucky just _breaks_ , whimpering Steve’s name as he comes, tensing around Steve and spilling all over his stomach.

Steve follows him soon after, biting down on Bucky’s shoulder when he tips over the edge. He slumps down on top of Bucky, both of them sweaty and sticky and and in absolute fucking heaven. Bucky gives Steve’s ass a little pat, just because he can, and then slides his hands up and down Steve’s back, both of them catching their breaths.

“Power’s back on,” he says, clearing his throat when his voice breaks.

“I know,” Steve replies, tucking his head under Bucky’s chin but making no moves to either pull out or get off of him. “Thought I went blind when the lights turned back on.”

“Really?” Bucky asks, surprised and a little impressed. “You didn’t even stop thrusting.”

“Gotta take care of my best guy.”

Bucky snorts at the smug but still sappy tone of Steve’s voice, dropping a kiss to his forehead.

“That you did,” Bucky agrees. “And I thought sex was supposed to get boring after marriage.”

“Not when we own a chest full of toys, it isn’t.”

“We didn’t even use any of them this time around,” Bucky points out, poking Steve on the shoulder. “Guess we’re just that good, huh?”

“Well, we’ve had plenty of practice,” Steve comments, licking at the sweat gathering on the hollow of Bucky’s throat and then placing a kiss there.

“That we did.” Bucky grins at the ceiling, curling an arm around Steve’s shoulder, his other hand still rubbing Steve’s back.

Steve lifts his head up after a few minutes, smiling down at Bucky, his cheeks flushed and hair damp. He looks beautiful, and Bucky’s never been more in love with him.

“Happy ten year anniversary, Buck,” Steve says, smacking a kiss to the tip of Bucky’s nose.

Bucky laughs, nose wrinkling, before tilting his head up and placing a wet kiss to Steve’s chin. “Happy anniversary, Stevie,” he says, and then adds, just because he can, “I want the rest of my cake now.”

It’s worth it, even though Steve pinches him in the thigh and then makes him get up and go to the bathroom so they can wash themselves up. Because when they come back, clothed and clean, they fall back on the couch, sitting so close Bucky can feel Steve’s heartbeat against his side.

And then Steve picks up his plate and a fork and feeds him cake, in between kisses and even more kisses and whispered words of love.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/) before more domestic fluff comes your way ~


End file.
